safe with me
by nrynmrth
Summary: This is the very first lesson Alex teaches Ben: spies don't have secrets. They can't. For SpyFest Revival, Week Two.


A/N: OK! This is my prompt fill for SpyFest's week two prompt, "There's one secret everyone takes to the grave." As has begun to be the norm with me, I'm not quite sure if I've answered the prompt the way it was meant to be answered...there's something about secrets in here, anyway. Somewhat. I think.

On with the show!

* * *

This is the very first lesson Alex teaches Ben: _spies don't have secrets. _They _can't._

He learns it on Dragon Nine, although he won't know it for years—he learns it when he puts a bullet into another man and sees something in Alex _break_, even as the younger spy's face remains in that cold, blank mask. His shoulder's screaming and he's lying in a pool of his own blood and he can't do anything but watch as Major Yu continues speaking and Alex turns to the man Ben had shot.

Ben's blood is roaring in his ears, pumping its way out of the hole in his shoulder, and he can't quite hear what's going on—but he _can_ see Alex's face, and the emptiness there coupled with the triumph on Yu's features tell him that something is terribly, terribly wrong, that some awful, dark secret has just been revealed.

Everything's a blur, after that. The man is dead, and then Dragon Nine is shaking, Alex is wrestling with the controls, and there's an SAS soldier bending over him, his face fading in and out. The last thing Ben remembers is the glance Alex directs toward the body on the floor, features still unreadable, before he blacks out.

-o-

It's not all that long before they see each other again, but it feels like forever—Ben's moved up the ranks, gained more of an understanding for how his new agency works, and Alex…Alex has grown up.

"I heard about Egypt," Ben says, regretting his bluntness the moment the words leave his mouth, but Alex just stares at his hands.

"You and everyone else in this bloody agency," he agrees, and the words could be bitter, but instead they're just _hollow_. "It's hardly a secret."

Ben swallows. "Is it true you're leaving?"

Alex looks at him, then, unashamedly appraising. "Yeah," he answers after a long moment. "I don't really know what I'm going to do in California, but, well…I'll have the chance to find out." He shrugs, and the motion is so listless that Ben's heart seizes.

"Write me," he orders impulsively, the words surprising him even as he finds he means them.

"You're joking."

Alex's tone is flat, but with an edge of incredulity that makes Ben smile, despite everything.

"No, I mean it." He shrugs. "I know we don't know each other all that well, but I'd—I'd like to know how you're doing. That you're OK. Send it to the bank, or something, but…"

Alex says, "Thanks," and it's dry and slightly sardonic, but he's looking at Ben with surprise and something maybe a little like gratitude…Ben's taking whatever he can get.

They don't speak much, after that—Alex leaves, and Ben's being prepped for another assignment, and then another, and days and months pass by. He doesn't think of the younger spy all that often, sparing the occasionally thought for the boy's wellbeing, until one day Mrs. Jones—_Director_ Jones—slides an envelope over the table to him.

"This came for you," she tells him, voice as dry as it always is, but he's learning how to read her and he can see the interest she's hiding.

When he opens it at his desk, something in his chest eases. The letter's not particularly fascinating, and it's filled with somewhat awkward pauses, but it serves its purpose. _Alex wrote, and he's all right._ After everything that had happened in the desert—Ben winces at the thought that Alex's worst experiences are common knowledge within the agency, but it can't be helped now—after all of that, the fact that the boy is getting a chance to live his life the way he wants…it means more than it should.

-o-

In hindsight, Ben really should have expected this. It's _Alex_, after all, and even though they still don't know each other all that well, Ben knows the boy well enough to have guessed that he couldn't stay out of the game for long.

"Run!" Alex shouts, ducking around a corner, and Ben obeys blindly, the shockwaves rippling through the earth enough to convince him.

"Alex," he rasps later, when they're catching their breath a few kilometres away from the site of the other spy's unfortunately-timed explosion. "What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

Alex sends him a withering look. "What do you think?" he snaps. _"Working."_

Inexplicably, that brings a grin to Ben's face, because even if the title's not official…spying is what Alex _does,_ it's his profession more than anything else could ever be.

"Fancy a bit of help?" he offers.

This is where their partnership begins for _real_.

It changes everything and nothing. They go on missions both together and alone—after all, they're in a dangerous business, and their hospital stays are rarely the same duration—but they never partner with anyone else. Alex says Ben's lucky to have him, and Ben teases back that _'Actually, Alex, no one else is mad enough to put up with you,'_ but secretly, privately he agrees.

They're close, now, they have to be, because they put their lives in each other's hands on an almost daily basis. They know each other almost as well as they know themselves. That knowledge is what makes the bottom drop out of Ben's stomach when Alex—his young, sarcastic, recklessly _good_ partner—draws a disassembled sniper rifle from the duffel bag at his side, slots all the pieces evenly together, and blows a terrorist's brains out from further than Ben would have believed possible, all without even breaking a sweat.

Ben must make some kind of sound, because Alex turns to face him, and something very much like regret flickers through his features before they smooth over.

"We've got to go," he says, turning away and taking apart the rifle with those same swift, economical movements. He's methodical, _practiced,_ Ben notes dazedly, and there goes the hope that this killing—this _assassination_—had been a one-off, because _no one_ is that good at killing unless they've been trained.

Later, when they're holed up in their hotel discussing their evac, Ben turns to find Alex studying, something bleak in his eyes.

"I'm sure you have questions."

Ben nods uncertainly, feeling oddly nervous. "I—where did you—"

"When I was fourteen, I watched an assassin named Yassen Gregorovitch die in front of me." Ben's frozen, unable to move as Alex tells his story. "He told me that if I went to SCORPIA, I'd find my destiny." Alex smiles, sharp and full of self-recrimination, and Ben's lungs turn to ice.

"You went."

"I went," Alex confirms. "And they told me that my father had worked for them before he was killed by MI6, and I was so young and _stupid_ that I believed them." He laughs, and it's the most self-deprecating sound Ben's ever heard. "I wanted revenge. So let them train me, I let them teach me to kill and turn me into a weapon, and then I let them point me at MI6. My first assignment was to kill Mrs. Jones."

Ben starts at that. "But you didn't," he guesses, and Alex nods.

"I tried—made it all the way to her apartment. I aimed the gun they'd given me at her, and then I fired it. MI6 had known, even then, and there was a wall of bulletproof glass between us—but even if there hadn't been, I hadn't aimed at her. The shot would have missed."

A sardonic smile spreads across Alex's face, and he huffs a laugh.

"And then I helped MI6 take down SCORPIA's operation and accidentally killed half of SCORPIA's board members."

Ben chokes, shocked, but looking at the wry smile on Alex's face, faint but genuine, he can't help but grin. "Sounds like you," he says fondly. "Fought over by two equally powerful organisations, and you manage to screw over both of them."

Despite the teasing, his voice is warm, and Alex's mouth twitches in response.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," he says after a moment.

Ben blinks. "What? For God's sake, _why?"_

Alex shrugs, and Ben feels instantaneously guilty, because that infernal blankness is creeping back over his partner's face.

"I—the training, it's part of my skillset," Alex says, voice low. "And we're partners. You—you deserved to know that—that it could be useful. In case we needed it, like we did today. And, well, you trust me, and I trust you. You deserved to know," he repeats.

Ben waits until Alex manages to look at him again before he says firmly, "You're being ridiculous. Was I surprised? Yes, of course, it's not every day you learn that your partner moonlighted as an assassin for the world's deadliest terrorist organisation _when he was fourteen_, especially considering that said organisation happens to be his arch-nemesis." Alex smiles at that, a quick twist of his mouth that makes Ben feel the tiniest bit better.

"But," Ben continues more softly, "do I fault you for not telling me? Of course not. It's your secret to keep or tell, Alex."

Alex, unexpectedly, begins to laugh, a strange mix between true amusement and the kind of bitter chuckle that makes Ben's gut clench in worry.

"My _secret,"_ Alex says when his laughter dies. "I don't have any secrets, Ben. I _can't."_ And Ben's confusion must show on his face, because Alex continues, "Everything about my life, everything I've tried to hide or protect…it's never a matter of _if_ someone finds out but a rather of _when._"

Ben's voice is stuck in his throat, but eventually, he manages to choke out a demand. "Explain."

Alex says, "I've been working adjacent to MI6 since I was _fourteen_, Ben. They've seen everything I've ever done. The people I loved, the people I tried to protect—who do you think I was protecting them from? They used them against me."

"They _blackmailed_ you," Ben hisses.

"Yeah," Alex agrees. "Well—not anymore. Jones is a _vast_ improvement over her predecessor, as I'm sure you'll agree. And I'm obviously here with you of my own free will," he tacks on, which makes Ben feel a little better. "But," Alex continues then, "they've known everything about my life since the day my uncle died. When I went…_off-grid_, when I was training with SCORPIA, the truth about my parents...I don't _have_ any secrets, Ben. And I can agree that it's better this way, that everyone I care about is safer with all the variables controlled, but…it doesn't make it easier to live with."

It takes Ben a moment to find his voice after that, to put into words the emotions he's feeling. "You don't have to live with it," he promises fiercely. "You don't belong to them anymore, Alex—not to MI6, not to SCORPIA, not to anyone but yourself."

"They still know everything about me," Alex counters, but Ben presses on,

"All the big things, sure, but the little things? They don't know _who you are,_ Alex. All those tiny things about you—loyalty, the fact that you trust me even though we regularly almost kill each other, or even that you sometimes intentionally time your daring escapes to give me the biggest heart attack possible—"

Alex snorts, and Ben grins at him, full and open and _light._ "They don't know all those things about you," he finishes.

"So, what, all the stupid things you yell at me for doing and then promptly turn around and do yourself—those are my secrets?"

"Yeah," Ben says, throat oddly tight. _No one has ever trusted me that much._ "And they're safe with me."

(This is the first lesson Ben teaches Alex: _spies_ don't have secrets…but people can.)

* * *

Yes, yes, _Never Say Die _happened and all that. I've worked in a little bit about post-_Scorpia Rising, _as you can see, but a _lot_ of creative licence taken. Sue me. (Or, rather, don't, because I doubt I could afford that.) Anyway, I needed things to go a little bit differently for this fic, so there you have it!

As always, thanks for reading! Any and all questions/comments/concerns welcome in the forms of reviews or PMs, and be sure to stop by the SpyFest forum to check out other amazing stories!

\- mara


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